Heart of Fortune
by Solaris Sky
Summary: A child, neglected in her youth, discovers the power of family, friendship and love as she battles through adversity, and finds the will to change her fate and that of their civilisation with her Heart.
1. Prologue: Heart of Loss

**Disclaimer: **I own neither Harry Potter nor W.I.T.C.H. If I did then why would I be writing a fanfic about them which earns me absolutely no money?

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**Prologue**

The night was calm, tranquil almost, the air gentle; caressing like a soft touch. It was a truly perfect night. But that gentle wind was foul, and events were occurring on this night that would change the future of an entire civilisation for eons to come.

In a small settlement known as Godric's Hollow, the peaceful night was broken by the cries of a tortured infant and its despairing parents.

"_Go Lily, I'll hold him off"_

"_James no!!!"_

"_JUST GO!"_

Feet pounding on stairs, a door slammed, she holds her baby, desperate to grant it the comfort it so desires. Yet still it cries, instincts only relatively new, being used to recognise danger and respond in the best way. The mother holds it tighter. She slips a necklace from herself and places it over the child's head. A pink crystal; held in an elaborate metal clasp, far too big for the infant. She weeps for her love and for her child and the fate they are destined to.

The door explodes across the room, propelled by a sickly burst of light. Through its empty arch steps a figure clad entirely in black. The face was gaunt and pale; it would almost be white if not for the insult to the colour. Crimson eyes, filled with hatred and insanity burned through the woman's turned body to the one she protected.

"_Stand aside girl"_

"_NO! not my baby please!"_

_STAND ASIDE!"_

A blast of crimson light threw the woman across the room, the life slowly bleeding from her through the wound it created. The figure glided toward the infant, who fell from the attack.

"_So, you are the one who will defeat me?"_

The figure turned his hand towards the child; in it he holds an object. A new light emanates from it; different, its deep heavy green like an emerald held in the dying sun. But this light was cold beyond all measure. The figure shifted and gave a cry. Two words. Indiscernible to the child and its dying mother, yet both knew: that beautiful green light would only destroy.

As the light struck the child, all were blinded as a brilliant pink light was released from the child. While the green light was cold and earthly, the pink could only be described as…heavenly. Its radiant light touched everything: the shattered door was repaired while the figure was enveloped and destroyed in a scream of agony from the touch of something so pure, in its place was only a shadow, a wraith.

The windows exploded as the radiant light seeped into the air, erasing the dark shadow in street, replacing it with a sense of purity and happiness; yet tinged with the feeling of despair.

For the young mother however it was too late, even as the light worked to heal the damage done to her, her body still, was slowly failing. With the last of her strength; the mother crawled across the floor to her eerily silent child. Placing a hand on the child's head, she uttered a string of words forever lost to all, and the sorrowful air shifted at her display of power. Slowly, her hand slipped down to the necklace the child wore, as she spoke a few more last words, and the air shifted again. Finally, she drew her child close, and placed a last kiss upon its forehead, with a smile full of love and no sorrow.

Thus she died.

And as for the wraith, it was banished. Weak and alone, it fled to some forgotten corner of the world, plotting, waiting to regain its power. But it could never forget the agony of the pink light, and swore vengeance on the unwitting child: the cause of Lord Voldemorts downfall.

Not long after the tragedy of Godric's Hollow, two new figures stepped across the threshold of the victim's house, their auras benevolent and loving. The first cried out with grief at the sight of the body of the young husband; his best friend, and dropped to his knees weeping. The other stepped deeper into the defiled home, searching for something. It was found by a child's cry: the discarded cloak of the dark figure and the wailing child, held to its fallen mother's bosom. The second returned to the first bearing the child, who was snatched away to hold by the first as he wept. The second stood as stoically as he could in the tragic scene before him.

The two parted ways, the first leaving for revenge, a look of hatred and guilt in his eyes. He bid the second good luck and prayed for the child before disappearing with a crack into thin air. The second turned and sat astride a huge machine, left by the avenger. Carefully, he cradled the infant before soaring into the night air. Thus, the last thing remembered by the child was the sensation of flying as the two passed over the waters of Bristol, as it slowly drifted into a dreamless sleep, a lightning bolt shaped cut engraved into its forehead and a strange oval mark upon its chest, just over its heart. This child's name became known as Harry Potter: 'The-Boy-Who-Lived'

The winds of fortune changed that night, forevermore. Changed by the heart of a single child.

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A/N: Okay what do you think? I know it's a little short but it is only a prologue, something to whet the appetite. The first chapter is being written and then needs beta-ing and will hopefully be released within a week or two. Sorry but I am a slightly slow writer anyway please give me your reviews and I will endeavour to produce something everyone can enjoy. Oh one last thing this Fic is obviously rated teen but that MAY change if I manage to write up to and past the 2nd year though most likely it won't change or I'll start a new story for the individual years.

See ya around!


	2. 1: Heart of Innocence

**A/N: **Hey everybody I'm back! Okay first let me apologise for this taking so long. It was almost finished a month ago now but I couldn't get the end quite right, then suddenly one weekend I get told: "Hey son get yourself ready we're going on holiday in three days." ...THANKS FOR THE NOTICE!!?? anyway I just couldn't get to where I wanted in those three days so I tried a shorter version which I still couldn't get right. anyway get back two weeks later and two days after that we're going to a wedding, then driving lessons, still get the chapter right, friends, still can't get it right, a two day trip to Cardiff, STILL CAN'T GET IT RIGHT, A-Level results and driving theory (which I passed and failed respectively if anyone's interested). And finally we reach today where I FINALLY managed to finish the shorter version of the chapter and am now posting it. Anyway now that my rant on how everything in my life is conspiring to stop me writing, is over. I give you the first chapter of: Heart of Fortune. so enjoy it and please review it, they help get a feel as to where I'm going wrong.

P.S. The next chapter will be longer I promise.

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**Chapter 1: Heart of Innocence**

"Get up boy! Get up! You have work to do!"

This was the cry that Harry James Potter awoke to almost every day, his emerald eyes fluttering open resignedly. It had been five years since he came here to live with his aunt Petunia and uncle Vernon. Five years of neglect, of being cast aside in favour for their perfect little "Duddikins"; who closely resembled a baby whale. Now, at the age of six Harry was… unique. He stood at only 3 feet tall, shorter even than the girls in his school year. His hair was a midnight black colour and fell to his shoulders like a thick curtain, despite his aunt's attempts to shorten it; it always grew back the next day. His skin was pale, a result of living on the cupboard under the stairs, and particularly smooth to the touch, his eyes were the colour emeralds desire to be. Yet for all this, something felt strange around him, as though he was not entirely real, a sense of falseness. A feeling that seemed to emanate from the strange birthmark he had on his chest: a large C shape with two lines extending from the top and bottom, a dark full circle contained within.

Along with his odd and somewhat girlish features, Harry held a fantastic imagination and a keen mind for a child his age, though it rarely was allowed the freedom it desired, due to his family. He knew his uncle and aunt didn't like him, but he could never imagine why. He tried and tried to please, he gave everything he could but got nothing in return for his efforts. He could not remember ever feeling a sense of security, from them or this house. He had never known care, but worst of all, he had never known love. Far too soon had he been forced into the real world. Far too soon had he had to become mature, never having been allowed to just be a child. He looked as world weary as a sick old man on his deathbed, tired of his life.

Still, a part of him refused to give up. Some unknown, unseen light in his heart gave him strength, even in the darkest hours of his short life, and at these times he would see things. Flashes of red and black, glimpses of blurred faces smiling at him, and a warm pink light caressing the body of his dreams. These brought him the greatest comfort he could remember and his heart warmed each time he felt it. The young child sighed and swung his legs off his small mattress, hands fumbling for the small cord to turn on the single dim light in the cupboard under the stairs, his room. Quickly pulling on some oversized clothes that belonged to his cousin Dudley two years ago he stepped out of the tiny room and headed for the kitchen to start on the breakfast for his 'family'.

While cooking the breakfast, balanced carefully on a small stool so he could reach the cooker, Harry thought about himself, wondering why his family didn't love him. He knew he was different in a lot of ways, his relatives hated him for something that was for sure, but he was different to the other children his age too. His unusually short height, even for a six year old was closer to the average height of the girls in his class, a source of great teasing from Dudley and his gang. He also didn't fit in with the few guys that didn't tease him. He couldn't find any interest in football or playing tag or anything the boys usually did. Truthfully he wanted to go and sit with the girls more, to talk with them, play their games, be their friend but none of the girls would acknowledge him, they didn't want to play with a 'boy'. Harry sighed again, he couldn't even try hard in classes; when he first went to school he managed to get some of the highest marks in his class while Dudley was on the wrong side of the halfway mark. Uncle Vernon had beaten him terribly for that and kept him in the cupboard for two weeks with the barest amount of food possible. His excuse to the school was that Harry had caught a sudden bought of Flu, and was being kept isolated even from his caring cousin Dudley to prevent it spreading. After that Harry had kept his head down and deliberately failed tests so as to keep his grades down. Despite this he was still learning at an accelerated rate. He spent as much time as he could in the school library; reading, something that he held a great passion for, in those fantastical books he could escape, and enter a world of happiness, of magic and wonders that his 'family' would never allow to even be mentioned in their house. It was 'freakish'.

As the Dursleys arrived/waddled into the kitchen and sat/slumped into their chairs respectively, Harry abandoned his thoughts and focused on finishing the food. If it was good enough he may only be yelled at once this morning.

"Hurry up boy! Dudley is hungry and I want my bacon!" came the anticipated angry yell from the head of the table.

"Coming uncle Vernon" replied Harry in a childish voice, which was strangely high pitched for a boy.

"Good God boy, grow a pair would you? You sound more and more like a girl every day!" was the response. This was a regular comment from Vernon whenever Harry spoke and a great amusement to both him and Dudley; who had picked up the insult and used it regularly around his friends, despite not understanding the meaning of it. Harry; however, did understand, but it didn't have the effect such an insult was intended to, in fact he felt almost glad every time his uncle made a comment about his lack of 'manliness'. It meant that he could dream that he had some connection to the girls he so desired to be friends with, but that would never happen, would it?

Harry simply bowed his head and closed his mouth after this, and served the Dursleys their food; most of it going on to Dudley's plate. Sitting down himself; Harry stared at his pitifully small portion of one bacon rasher (the smallest in the pack), a spoonful of scrambled eggs and one Hash brown. He sighed silently in resignation before perking up as he remembered something that one of the girls at school always did before she ate her lunch, if he showed uncle Vernon and aunt Petunia maybe they would be impressed and happy! Quickly he placed his hands together and closed his eyes; thinking hard on remembering the exact word used by that girl.

"Itadakimasu".

At this the entire house became silent. Harry blinked slowly as he looked up at the stunned face of his aunt, his face slipped slowly into a smile as he thought she was stunned in happiness. When he turned to his uncle however the smile slipped and fell, replaced by a look of fear. What Harry had not known was that Vernon was one of the greatest Xenophobe's in the British Isles. From this phobia stemmed not only his irrational hatred of Harry for his magic but all things that Vernon did not class as British. For Harry to have uttered the Japanese thanks for food was the greatest insult Vernon could imagine. His eyes glinted as he finally realised that the 'boy' had to be taken care of. He would not stand for anymore 'freakishness' in his house ever again.

Harry froze in his terror as Vernon's face darkened to an ugly shade of puce, far darker than anything Harry had ever seen before from his uncle. He didn't even have time to scream as Vernon's giant fist slammed into his face with all the force he could muster. Harry was sent skidding on his back into the living room, crashing into the television stand and knocking it down; to explode in a shower of sparks around him, a shard of glass from the broken screen sliced through the oversized shirt he wore, exposing his chest and cutting and thin line across it. A cry of pain and terror ripped itself from his throat. Vernon swiftly (as swift as someone his size can be) rose from his chair and stalked towards the downed boy.

"You've done it now boy! I've told you to NEVER bring your FREAKINSHNESS into this house! But you still do it, you still pollute our home with your freak ways," He was half way across the room and paused to grab a golf club out of a stand from when he had once tried to teach it to Dudley who had decided after twenty minutes that he hated the sport and the clubs had been lying dormant ever since. Vernon continued, "I gave you a roof over your head, food on you plate and all I ask is that you do what you're told. Clearly that is too much for you, clearly you will never give up your freakishness, so I guess you'll take it to your grave freak!" Vernon raised the club above his head. Harry shut his eyes, silently crying from the pain he felt and the look on his uncle's face.

Vernon brought the club down.

A single tear slipped from Harry's cheek, and landed on the birthmark over his heart.

The club smashed down with all its force, into a bright pink sphere that immediately surrounded Harry, pulsating with a steady rhythm. The sphere quickly turned opaque, hiding the shocked look on the young boys face from the horrified look that Vernon possessed. Two strange bracket like images appeared in the sphere, one on top of the other and spun rapidly as the sphere began to shrink, until it suddenly exploded outwards in a huge burst of light, one that could be seen from practically anywhere on the street of 'Privet Drive'. Indeed there were numerous witnesses to the event, multiple neighbours wondering exactly what was going on, though the old lady next door: Mrs Figg was not among these. She had taken a short holiday to France, a fact that would bring great Ire to some who were interested in the 'Boy who lived' and his fate that day. However these people are not to be a part of this child's story yet. In her stead however, a woman who had been visiting a client of hers on that very same street, was leaving their house at the exact moment the incident occurred. Eyes widening, she hurried across the road towards 'number 4' while the next door neighbours to 'number 4', having heard Vernon's cries hurried to their telephone, rapidly dialling 999.

Meanwhile the flare of light from young Harry had died down. Vernon had been thrown onto his back by a concussive wave that was released with the light, Petunia and Dudley crouched beside him as he attempted to clear his head. The wave had devastated the living room and the front hall. Nothing was left standing, the ceiling had huge cracks running all over it, pieces of plaster falling randomly. Shelves decimated, furniture perforated, walls ventilated and doors barely hanging on their hinges. And in the middle of all the destruction, the Dursleys laid their eyes upon the child they had believed to be their freak nephew.

In the place of the dark haired little boy, there sat a young girl with bright crimson locks that fell to her shoulders smoothly. Her left eye was the same emerald green as before while her right eye was hazel brown with a slight reddish tint, both were wide in shock. Around her neck lay a strange pink jewel, held in an elaborate metal clasp, on a thin chain link cord. The girl stared down at herself in what appeared to be a mix of wonder, awe and shock. A single red lock of hair slipped into her vision and the Dursleys watched in wonder but also fear and disgust, as the girl bolted instantly from her kneeled position to her feet and across to the doorway of the lounge. A trembling voice emanated from her lips, a voice that sounded so familiar yet so different at the same time.

"Wh-what happened to me?"

Nobody moved, nobody spoke. They all simply stared at this new person before them.

Until an urgent banging broke the dreadful silence, and brought the weakened front door crashing to the ground.


End file.
